Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1887-03-05

retrospection. Never. after leaving the
tort, until the occasion now to be named
had l spoken nor written of them.
In 1857 had become thirty eight years
of age. Something then happened that
was as surprising to myself as to any OF
my acquaintance. 1 married a wife. II
was the old story: habit, preconceivcd opin-
ion, lapse of time, all were against the
probability of such a thing; with any other
woman it would have been an impossibility
but this one
No matter; enough of this. She was
twenty years my jdnior, and it was mar
rage of affection, pure and simple. A
glorious creature!-but enough of this, too.
And she was quite an artist; much more
than an amateur. Young as she was she
had gained reputation; her work
was in demand; she was liv-
ing by her brush when found her.
In the early days of our welded life she
delighted to show me her early work, all of
which she had carefully preserved. Unlike
most workers in the arts, she was not at all
ashamed of it; crude though it was, she
WAS interested in tracing the progress that
these attempts showed, and certainly it was
with real pleasure that looked them over
and listened to her explanations.
On one occasion, during our bridal trip,
while we were stopping for few days at
a seaside resort, Marian and |, accom-
panied by her favorite, Zip, pure blooded
Skye terrier, found a secluded nook COM
handing view of the sea. There she
seated herself upon moss-covered rock,
with some fancy needlework to give a SEM
blance of occupation, while l laZiiy re-
clined at her feet.
Then she resumed the subject of her
early endeavors III art, and when We had
reached the end of the collection she
seemed to hesitate, and then said:
Jasper, | have one more, a little water
color, that l painted when only ten years
old. My friends called it good, and flat
tered me too much about it; but there was
one thing that makes me almost tremble
whenever l see it-that is, the way it was
done. 1t was commenced, continued, and
finished without the least idea in my head
of a subject. Scenery and figures We're ex-
ecuted just as they occurred to me; my
hand worked almost mechanically. And,
Jasper"-she grew very serious here, and
her voice trembled-"when first met you,
six months ago, that picture instantly came
into my head. Your face and your voice
have always ever since reminded me of it.
Strange, is it not? / am not troubled about
1t at all; but there is something In this curious
association of yourself with that picture
that | can not understand"
She brought it to me, and, if ever the
dead shall rise before my waking vision,
shall not be more startled. The picture
WIS of a ruddy twilight sky a boundless
prairie, horse freely cropping the grass,
man kneeling beside her, holding her
bopHc I uozaI at II ac If foSo
Marian" cried, when the power of
speech returned to me, ''who told you of
this subject ?"
Nobody. painted it just as l told
you, without thought or design"
"And you never heard nor read of an
incident that you intended to illustrate by
this ?"
"Never; and do not know now what il
means"
but the locality-the Western prairie
you have seen it?
She smiled as she replied, 81 have never
been outside the State of Connecticut in
my life"
Mechanically turned the picture over
in my hand. A card was in the corner of
the frame : Marian took it out and busted
it with her handkerchief.
This | wrote when the picture was
DONE" she said, 'for a kind of name.
Don't ask me why selected such Curl
Gus one l can no more tell you that
than why l painted the picture itself.
She held up the card to my eyes. A
sweet, sad voice from beyond the tomb
seemed to fill my ears as l read:
II an not tearing yOW torerer!"
We sat in silence for n while. She saw
that was strongly moved, and she did not
disturb me; only her hand stole quietly
into mine.
"Marian," I said at last, al think you
told Inc once that you had your mother S
large family Bible"
"Yes. They are all dead but me. There
was no one else to have it.
"Please let me see it."
She brought it, and ] turned TO the
Family Record, where births, marriage,
and deaths the brief epitomo of human
life Were entered i'll a large, round hand
There / read:
MARIAN REDMOND.
"Born October 9, 1S49.'
It was the day of Minnie Davenant's
death.